Chapter 29

Annabeth POV

My bedroom looks like a bomb went off. Papers, post-its, and old wrappers litter the bed, floor, desk, and almost any other surface you can think of.

For the past couple of days, I've been hard at work planning out my next steps to find out who's behind everything that's been going on. I've been completely driven by my desire to find out who's behind the threats and the environmental scandal––neglecting almost everything else to focus on the search. I even have a stereotypical detective board––red yarn and everything––with pictures and notes on anyone who's potentially involved.

I've been careful about what I've been doing, though––I learned my lesson about that last time. Before I go to sleep at night I make sure to stuff everything in my (once empty) suitcase and hide it behind the bed. Whoever left the threatening note and searched my room that one night hasn't been back since then, and frankly, I doubt they will be. They're probably thinking that I'd have to be pretty insane to ignore their threat. But unfortunately for them, "sane" has never exactly been on my agenda.

I've finally come to a crossroads in my investigation. I've gathered just about everything I can on anyone I think or know might be involved: The Augurs and Octavian, Zeus, the resort donors, and a million other people who could all be behind the scandal. I feel like I'm finally ready to start doing tangible investigation.

I begin to pack up all of my research for the night, stuffing everything into my suitcase. Just before I'm about to zip it up, I look over my plan for the night one more time. I've created specific investigation plans for each of my suspects, and over the next week or so, I plan on investigating someone new each night.

Tonight, I'm going to start with Zeus. From what I gathered at the expansion meeting that Percy and I snuck into so long ago, Zeus probably isn't too heavily involved, but I think it's important to check him off the suspect list before I actually get to the heavy investigating. Not to mention, he's the person I have the most access to, with my being so close to Thalia and all. Scratch that. With my having been so close to Thalia and all.

I grit my teeth and stuff the last of the papers into my suitcase before zipping it closed and sealing it with a lock.

As soon as I stuff my suitcase behind my bed, I quickly throw on the darkest outfit I can find. I wind up wearing a long black turtleneck with leggings, dark hiking boots, gloves, and my platinum hair pulled back tight under a black bandana. I even add a belt of "might-needs" for good measure. If there's one thing I'm certain of going into this, it's that my wardrobe choice certainly won't be my undoing.

When I step outside, I'm greeted by a cool breeze. It's pretty windy, and the part of myself that's beginning to work up a sweat in the long layers is thankful.

I know I can't take my skateboard with me tonight––it'd be a dead giveaway if anyone saw it––so I decide to walk. I don't mind though. I need the time to think.

The sky above is dark, with flecks of orange down by the horizon where the sun has just set. Normally, I'd prefer to do something like what I'm about to do when it's completely dark out, but I know that I'll have a much better chance of being successful if I go at a time when I'm absolutely sure no one will be home. I know that tonight there's another big resort board dinner party, and I'm sure that everyone will be there by now.

I take a familiar route down the resort streets––one it seems like I've taken a million times at this point. I pass couples holding hands on their way to dinner, kids running around in the street, and even a couple of elderly people walking their dogs and enjoying the sunset.

I've only been walking for a couple of minutes when I turn onto the all too familiar sidestreet, my heart contracting as I do. I've planned out this part of the night to a tee, but I never could've prepared for the way I'd feel making my way down Percy's street. I take a deep breath and move forward.

At least it's not going to be his room I'm searching through. But walking down the street makes me sad, nonetheless.

I push forward until I reach the door to Thalia and Jason's room, slipping my hand under the doormat for their spare key. I used to do this all the time back when Thalia and I were still hanging out, and I feel a small pang of guilt now that I'm doing it without her knowing––like I'm betraying her trust. It's for a good cause, I tell myself before sliding the key into the lock and pushing open the door with a flick of the lights.

Their room is a mess, as usual. Food wrappers and unwashed dishes cover every surface, and clothes are strewn across the floor. I smile sadly, missing every inch of it.

I make my way into the room and begin opening the kitchen drawers, knowing exactly what I'm looking for.

Even though I've never actually seen it, Thalia's talked a million times about the house her father keeps on the outskirts of the resort property––where he and his wife stay during the summers while they run the resort. Thalia and Jason preferred not to stay with them––no doubt because they preferred to be away from Zeus and Hera––which is why they stay in the rooms, closer to the heart of the resort.

And closer to Percy.

I take a deep breath and continue rummaging through the drawers.

Despite not staying in Zeus's house, Thalia and Jason have a key, and that's what I'm here to find. No doubt it's something obnoxious––something big and flaunty––so that's what I look for. My eyes scour the items in the drawers, but I find nothing, so I move on to a few other spots.

I check the dining area, the couch cushions in the living room––I even check the pockets of some of the clothes on the floor––before making my way over to Thalia and Jason's bedrooms.

As soon as I step foot in Jason's room, though, my breath catches.

Sitting on the bed is Percy's bag and his skateboard. And there's no mistaking it––it's the very same board that he was riding when I ran into him on the day we met.

For a split second, the irrational part of my mind makes me look around hopefully, searching for him. It only takes a moment for reality to set in, however, and my pulse slows.

Percy probably just came over here to get ready for the dinner party and left his stuff behind. Nothing to get worked up about.

But I can't help it. As cheesy as it may sound, just the thought of him makes me get worked up. I feel my stomach flutter, and my mouth goes dry, and I'm immediately flooded with a surge of emotion that is equal parts love and sadness, all jumbled together into a confusing and heartbreaking mingle.

I know I shouldn't do it, but I can't help myself as I step towards the bed. My body moves as if caught in a trans, and against my conscience, I find myself unzipping Percy's bag. I pull back the flap, smiling.

On top lies Percy's lifeguard sweatshirt––one I've worn more times than I can count. I take the dark red fabric in my hands and, feeling like the world's biggest creep, bring it up to my face, taking in the scent of him.

An involuntary sob escapes my throat as I hold the sweatshirt up to my face. It smells like salt water and chlorine, a scent that is so, unbelievably Percy it breaks my heart.

I want to hold the sweatshirt forever, and I keep it pressed up to my cheek as I continue. In his bag, Percy has sunscreen, a bag of chips, an extra towel, and a few other things. It's all so casual, but every item breaks my heart, like I'm getting a glimpse of him through a looking glass or a television screen––like he's there, but I can't be with him.

And boy does it hurt.

I begin putting everything back the way I found it, one item after another, before finally zipping the bag back up. I rub the side of my neck, where a dull ache has begun taking place.

I feel guilty for going through Percy's bag, but this is the closest I've felt to him in what feels like forever, and I just want more. Slowly, I unzip the front pocket of the bag, reaching inside. I feel my hands wrap around his wallet, and I bring it out, turning it over in my hands.

I'd never paid much attention to Percy's wallet before, because when we'd been dating, there'd been no reason to––I'd had Percy. But now that I don't have him, I'm amazed at how something as colloquial as a wallet can feel so important.

I flip open the wallet, and as soon as I do, I feel my heart stop.

Tucked into the clear side of the wallet, where someone would normally put their ID, Percy has the photo strip from the day we went in the photo booth at the Santa Monica pier. In the first photo, the two of us look downright ridiculous, Percy with his tongue hanging out, and me with my eyes crossed so far together I'm surprised they didn't stick like that.

In the second one, I'm mimicking a shark, pretending to take a bite out of Percy's head as he jokingly cowers in fear. I smile at the photo, remembering just how happy I'd felt in that moment. I think my copy of the photo strip is stuffed at the bottom of one of my bags, and I haven't seen it in ages, so seeing these photos again is like reliving that moment all over again. It makes me so sad I can hardly breathe.

The fact that he still has this photo in his wallet fills me with a painful hopefulness, which is stupid. He probably just forgot it was there.

In the third photo, Percy and I are laughing ridiculously hard. I remember that we were laughing so much we couldn't even manage to string together a pose. Both of our faces are turning red, but while I'm busy laughing, Percy is staring directly at me, a look of such adoration and love on his face, I wouldn't believe it if the evidence wasn't right in front of me. The way he's looking at me in this photo trumps the way the actors in even the most romantic movies look at each other, because in that photo, his love is so genuine, it's undeniable.

I feel fast tears well up in my eyes, and I let them fall, not even bothering to wipe them away.

In the last photo, Percy sits, smiling like a goofball, as I lean up, gripping his shoulder hard while I kiss his cheek. I remember how much courage it took for me to work up to doing that in that moment, and I laugh sadly through my tears, thinking back on it.

I study the photo strip for a moment longer before closing the wallet back up and returning it to its spot in Percy's backpack.

I need to cherish that moment for what it was, and channel that same courage to help me in catching the person responsible for taking that happiness away from me.

I take a deep breath in, and with a new wave of determination, I continue searching for the key.

When nothing turns up in Jason's room, I make my way into Thalia's room and begin shuffling through the drawers. I find gum wrappers, eyeliner bottles, empty CD cases––who even uses CD's anymore?––and it's only a couple of minutes before I finally find the key too.

I find it in the pocket of Thalia's leather jacket––why am I not surprised?––and when I pull it out, it weighs heavily in my hand. Just as I predicted, the key is this large, obnoxious hunk of metal with a detailed trim and the Grace family crest stamped on the front.

I roll my eyes and slip it into my pocket before heading back to the front door.

I'm careful to leave everything just as I found it (minus the key), and make sure to flick off all the lights before I head back out into the cool night. The sun has completely dipped below the horizon at this point, and I'm thankful for the darkness as I begin making my way out of Thalia, Jason, and Percy's cul de sac.

It only takes me a couple of minutes to get to the Colosseum from there, and it feels absolutely strange as I pass it, heading in the direction of Zeus's house. I've never had any reason to venture this far north of the Colosseum before, and despite the fact that I know there's really no way for me to get caught doing what I'm doing, charting into unknown territory still fills me with a sense of foreboding.

The further I walk, the darker the paths get, the street lamps growing fewer and fewer. I decide to begin walking alongside the road rather than on it, knowing full well that that's where any security cameras would be pointed.

Before I know it, I'm walking through trees and dense foliage, and I'm incredibly thankful for my boots––this wouldn't be a fun trek if I didn't have them. I feel like I've traversed into a completely different land, the thick forestry aesthetic giving no hint to the fact that the road I walk alongside leads up to a world renowned resort.

I know it's just my imagination getting the better of me, but I can't help the chill that runs down my spine as I make my way through the foliage. No wonder Thalia and Jason choose to stay separately from their dad. This place definitely doesn't give off any "homey" vibes.

It's a couple of minutes before I reach the gate, and the moment I see it, I can't help but roll my eyes. Gates are no problem, but they definitely don't make my life any easier. Gates mean climbing which means exposing myself. What an inconvenience.

I make my way around the perimeter, scouting out any security cameras. They appear to have them about every fifteen feet (assuming that they don't have hidden ones as well), which strikes me as absolutely ridiculous. The Graces are rich, but it's not like they're the Windsors.

It takes me a little while to find the section of the gate with the most foliage, and when I do, I head over slowly, making sure I maintain my cover.

As soon as I reach a section I'm comfortable with, I unzip the belt at my waist and take out my pocket knife, pulling down a low hanging branch from a nearby tree and cutting away at its base. The long branch cuts free in seconds, and as soon as it's off, I make sure to rough up the edge that I had cut, making it look like it fell off naturally.

Dragging the branch behind me, I head over to the base of the gate. It's about eight feet tall, which shouldn't be a problem. Keeping myself crouched low in the bushes, I hoist the branch I had cut over my head, swinging it up on top of the gate and positioning it in just the right way so that it blocks the lens of the security camera. I'm glad it's windy tonight, otherwise a branch blowing in front of one of their cameras might've brought up suspicion, but I doubt anyone will pay it any attention.

Maintaining a low posture, I take a couple of steps back before launching off at a running start and jumping up to grip the top of the gate. I grab it with ease, and the grip on my gloves holds tight as I pull myself up. I muster all of my strength to get myself in a straddle position over the top of the gate, and I only take a moment to breathe before flipping my legs over to the other side and dropping down.

Piece of cake.

I pull down the branch behind me and place it carefully on the ground, making sure it's in a spot where I'll be able to find it so that I can block the camera again when I need to get back over.

As I sneak around the side of the house, I'm not too worried about security cameras––they tend to only be around the gate and near the front door. However, you can never be too careful, so I keep low as I head for the back door, pulling the obnoxious house key out of my belt pocket.

The door swings open with ease the moment I slide the key into the lock, and I let out a relieved breath. I don't dare flick the lights on, but I do pull a flashlight out of my belt, turning it on to examine the room.

The place is huge. And when I say huge, I mean huge. The house seems to be modeled in a similar style as the resort, with large greek columns and marble floors, and I wouldn't be surprised if my mom was the one who designed it.

The place is gorgeous, with mahogany curtains lining the windows in the hall, and I pass bust after bust of old fashioned art as I make my way down a long Persian rug and into the main room.

My breath catches at the enormity of it all, and I quickly check my watch to see how much time I have to search everything. There's only a couple of hours left before everyone will start heading back from the dinner party.

I better get started.

I do a thorough job of searching the rooms. I've become quite an expert at it at this point, anticipating what kinds of structures might be hiding something. I don't even know what I'm looking for exactly––just something out of place I guess, anything that might hint some sort of involvement with everything that's been going on.

I doubt I'll find anything tonight––I really don't see how Zeus could be behind everything, what with him being completely oblivious to most of the stuff that goes on at the resort––but I do a good job searching anyway. It'll be good practice for when I get to the more intense searches later on of the people I know are involved, like the Augurs.

I'm about an hour in before I decide to move to the upstairs, making my way up the cold, white steps. A strange sense of calm has come over me as I work, allowing me to fall into a comfortable routine.

I check the bedrooms, the closets, the bathrooms. I save Zeus's office for last because I know that that's where I'm most likely to find anything of interest, but after searching pretty much everything, I'm not surprised when nothing comes up.

Just as I'd predicted, he's not guilty of anything more than complete ignorance and bad parenting. I roll my eyes, a sudden wave of pity for Jason and Thalia washing over me.

I remember the way that Zeus had sat with his head held high at the expansion meeting Percy and I had snuck into so long ago. How he'd put on a pretense of being this all-knowing, powerful person, yet he couldn't answer a single question without addressing his consultants or the notes he had pre prepared. He probably hadn't even written those notes––he'd probably been spoonfed the lines like a baby. The thought makes me mad. I hate that clueless people so often get credit for brilliant peoples' work just because they happen to be in positions of power.

With a sigh, I close the door to Zeus's office and begin making my way back over to the stairs. I'm tired, and frankly, I've had enough for one day.

I've just made my way down the first three steps, however, when something flashes in a strange gleam of moonlight from the window, catching my eye.

From where I stand on the stairs, I have a direct line of sight into the lower half of Zeus and Hera's bedroom, a room that I already searched thoroughly. But that flash of light…

The reflection of moonlight had come from underneath the dresser––but I'd already checked there and found nothing. I bite my lip in confusion.

That dresser is covered in Hera's jewelry. Maybe an earring or something had dropped under the dresser accidentally and was now reflecting the moonlight? But that didn't make sense. The light had been far too bright to be caused by a reflection from a piece of jewelry.

Part of me wants to investigate it, but the more rational part of my mind says that I'm being stupid––that my nerves are making me read into something that's completely unimportant. I mean, what importance could a flash of light be anyway?

As per usual, though, I ignore the rational part of my brain.

Turning on my heel to head back up the stairs, I check my watch to make sure I still have time. I have about two hours left until the dinner ends––more than enough time.

For the second time tonight, I make my way into Zeus and Hera's bedroom, but instead of searching around this time, I drop to the floor in front of the dresser and shine my flashlight underneath.

Just as I'd found the first time I looked, there's nothing there. I roll my eyes at my own stupidity. Of course there isn't.

Just to double check though, I decide to run my hand along the underbelly of the dresser, feeling around for anything abnormal. I'm just about to pull my hand away, when all of a sudden, my hand passes over something thin and cold.

Quickly, I crouch low and put my flashlight down so that I can snake my other hand under the dresser as well, beginning to slide free the mystery object from where it's notched to the dresser's underbelly.

The moment I pull the object out from underneath the dresser bottom, I gasp.

It's a laptop.

I open it quickly, my curiosity taking over.

The screen flashes on, and I'm shocked to see that the laptop isn't password protected. Why would someone go to all the trouble of hiding their laptop like that and not even put a passcode on it?

I don't have time to think too much on it though, because the moment I read the names of the computer's desktop files, everything falls into place.

I think I'm going to puke.

The files contain everything from environmental test result forgeries, to side payment plans from anonymous donors, to the blueprints for the pipeline dumping system and records of bribing city officials to keep quiet about it all. And they're all under one name.

Hera.

I make my way through the documents one by one, my mind going more and more slack with each word I read.

Hera is the one who's been behind everything. She's the brains behind the operation––always has been––secretly running things under the pretense of being Zeus's useless trophy wife.

I comb through the files, my heartbeat accelerating.

She's been running the resort since day one, handling both the business and economic sides of things. I guess at some point along the line she saw an opportunity for financial gain in taking environmental shortcuts, and went ahead with plans to create the pipeline system to dispose of the resort's waste in a more affordable, but environmentally damning, way.

My pulse quickens with each line I scan––about the wealthy investors like the Augurs who made it possible, and all of the other people involved. I feel like I'm going to be sick when I read about the lengths that were gone to to cover it all up.

Shit, shit, shit.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

I needed to get proof of this... and fast.

I decide not to send anything to myself via the laptop––even the most extensive steps to cover up my tracks could be uncovered with the right resources. Instead, I pull out a tiny disposable camera I have stashed in my side belt and begin taking pictures of everything the old fashioned way.

I try to get through everything as quickly as I can, snapping picture after picture. Even though I know I have ample time left, I can't help but feeling terrified now that I've actually uncovered something.

I hadn't expected to find anything here tonight, and now that I have, I feel completely taken aback. Stupid!

The moment I finish with the pictures, I shut the computer closed as fast as I can and slide it back into its place under the dresser. I stand up as quickly as possible, heart racing, and head over to the nightstand on the other side of the room, where a landline phone sits on display.

As much as I wish that the photos could be enough to be sufficient damning evidence, I know that to really think that would just be ignorant. The Graces have access to some of the best lawyers in the world. If I try to turn Hera in with a couple of photos from a digital camera, they'd try to mark me as an uncredible source because I obtained the evidence while breaking and entering. Not to mention that I could've forged all of these documents on my own and simply taken a picture of them.

No, in order for Hera to be punished for everything, she needs to be caught redhanded by the authorities.

My hand shakes as I dial 911.

I can barely feel my legs as I pull the phone up to my ear.

The phone rings for half a second. "This is 911, what's your emergency?"

"Hello," I say into the phone, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "I'm currently at 600 Olympus Drive at the Olympus Resort in Los Angeles. I'd like to report a felony."

There's no response. The line sounds dead.

"Hello?" I try again.

An eerie chill takes over the room, and a sudden wave of dread washes over me.

"I thought I told you to stop snooping around," a light voice rings from behind me. "Why'd you have to go and make this messy."

Phone still in hand, I quickly whip around to find Hera standing in a shimmering white evening gown, her dark hair cascading down her back. She appears relaxed as she dangles the unplugged phone cord between her hands, and it sends waves of fear quaking through me. Hera looks impossibly terrifying in the darkness of the room, the moonlight giving her a ghostly glow. I look down and see that she has one healed foot hovering over my disposable camera, which I left on the ground next to my flashlight and other stuff. I don't know how on earth she snuck up behind me like that without me hearing her, but in that moment it doesn't matter. I read about all the lengths she went to to cover this stuff up.

I'm fucked.

"You––" I start to say, but before I can finish my thought, Hera brings her heel down on my camera. I barely have time to scream before I'm grabbed from behind.